


Hope You Think Of Me

by LeiMcCartney



Series: Swift Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Paris, Cellist Castiel, Forehead Touching, Human Castiel, Inspired by Taylor Swift song, Longing, M/M, One Shot...UNLESS?, Pining, Post-High School, Soldier Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeiMcCartney/pseuds/LeiMcCartney
Summary: Castiel recalls the boy who broke his heart in high school and is shocked to find him again in Paris





	Hope You Think Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s the breakdown: Each Taylor Swift song is getting a one shot, in chronological order of release date. Can be any pairing, AU, etc. Can be as long or short as wanted, min. 1500 words, only one piece. (Bonus Points: Use random tag generator and use to be qUiRkY.)

The lights were dimming in the auditorium and as it did so, the noise of the audience did as well creating a hush as a singular spotlight illuminated the cellist on the stage. He was already seated, having moved while it had gone dark, cello ready in hand, hands poised to play. Dressed in a simple black suit tailored for his body, he made an impressive image, lone on the stage, eyes lowered from the light to the ground.

Castiel Novak wasn't the most well-known cellist in the world for nothing. He drew the bow back and fell into the song that had launched his career many years ago. 'A Requiem for My Lake' was a piece he had written during his senior year, full of teenage angst and longing and anger. It was a violent piece that drew out long notes and fired staccato tunes to its listener, conveying a raging grief and confusion that was beautiful to hear. Castiel breathed out a hard swallow of emotion as he fell into the melody, letting his head wander back to what he had thought while writing it.

While this song was his most popular one, it was also one that he deigned not to play as often. There was something oddly emotional about it that still made his eyes sting a little.

The song had been written after a boy he had met during his junior year in high school, Dean Winchester, a boy whose smile had captured Castiel's attention upon first meeting him. His first impression of the other one had been unpleasant, seeing Dean flirt unsuccessfully with another girl in their grade. But somehow, they had taken up to talking in the hallway since they had three classes together.

He had learned surprisingly much, considering how short their time had been together. From the odd loyalty he held for his father to the way the other's need to constantly shoulder everything. Castiel let a bitter expression go over his face.

They had agreed to run away together, away from Castiel's family who had always tried to dictate how his life should be lived to Dean's father who allowed no room for disobedience. They had been naive and young and somewhat desperately in love. Maybe that's why they had stolen a truck and driven out of the city, from the prying eyes and gossiping tongues and driven out to a lake where they had kissed by the shore.

He could still see the sun-tanned boy lying on his stomach, hair slicked back, wide grin on his face as he looked at Castiel. Breathtaking green eyes had made his heartbeat and the other had similarly looked at him, besotted. It was every teenage romance movie cliché overlapped, and the cellist had been incredibly in love.

Recalling Dean's words to him then, Castiel drew the bow down into a deeper note, slowing the tempo slowly until it was a crawling, sweet song that suggested a more innocent romance.

"Your blue eyes could outshine the night sky." Dean had told him, interlacing their fingers together as he leaned back onto Castiel. Their shirts were on the ground somewhere near the truck abandoned somewhere on the other side of the lake.

"You're such a liar." Castiel had smiled back, wrapping his arms around the other and enjoying the wild sense of freedom that filled him. His heart pounded, still rushing from the adrenaline of having run away.

Sharply cutting off the sweet tune, Castiel's hand rushed back and forth, causing an angry melody to fill the air. The audience audibly drew a breath together as the music crescendoed into a furious melody, quickly interposed by the earlier sweet melody in quick bursts.

After they had returned from their stupid escapade, they had each gone home. Castiel was berated by his parents but he didn't care at the time. It was the next day that caused him the most pain. Dean came to school, eyes red and cheeks blotchy from where it looked like he had been crying. An angry bruise on his cheek.

"What happened?" Castiel asked, a furious expression shadowing his face as he cupped Dean's face in his hands. The other had slapped his hands away, trying to dismiss it. "No, did your father do this to you, Dean?"

"Shut up, Cas." Dean had snarled at him, taking a step back. Tensely, they stood a foot from each other, staring angrily at each other. Then, after a moment's pause, Dean's shoulder deflated and his mouth trembled, eyes tearing up.

"My dad's moving us again."

It had been an arrow to his heart, and Castiel had insisted that they run away... for real, this time. Not just to some lake in the countryside, but far away. Somewhere where the names Novak and Winchester didn't mean anything, and they could run away. Forever.

But in the end, Dean had left with his father with promises of writing letters and calling on the phone. And Castiel waited every day for the mailman-- he ran to the phone every time it rang, but Dean never sent him anything. After months of waiting on some letter or some call, Castiel eventually gave up, angry and defeated and sad. His brothers had all tried to comfort him, but he refused to even talk about it.

He threw himself into his music and the first thing he wrote was this song. This encapsulation of the anger and grief and sadness and longing and love, all wrapped into a vengeful song about a boy who had played his heart.

With one last deep note, he drew the bow from the cello and stood up, bowing to the audience. The people went wild, shouting French praises and throwing a few flowers, one that Castiel picked up out of propriety’s sake and bowed once more.

The next performer came up.

The rest of the show went by admirably and Castiel retired to the reception area where many people were sporting their own champagne flutes. This show, the Classical Talent Showcase, was put on every year, and since Castiel's debut, he had been one of the regular guests. This year, it was being hosted by France, in its capital, Paris. Many famous people and politicians enjoyed coming to this show, including one of Castiel’s favorite actors Hugh Dancy who had been a delight to meet.

“Ah, monsieur Novak, je veux que vous rencontriez quelqu’un.” A voice came from behind him. He turned and gave an awkward smile to the man in front of him. He was one of the politicians that had forgotten the name of. The woman next to him translated.

“Mr. Novak, Mr. DuBois would like you to meet someone.”

“Oui, bien sûr.” Castiel smiled, nodding. The other man smiled and started indicating to someone behind Castiel. The translator began speaking with the man.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce you to the new American ambassador to France,” She said and Castiel began turning towards the person who was standing behind him and froze, “General Dean Winchester.”

The rest of the world bled away, and Castiel’s mouth fell open. In front of him, with only a few more wrinkles, definitely taller, was Dean Winchester, the boy who had crushed his heart all those years ago, a neutral look on his face that Castiel could recognize from all those years ago. He was nervous.

“Dean.” Castiel breathed out, mouth suddenly dry. No other words were coming up and all he could do was take a tiny step closer, keeping their eyes locked as he tried to convey something that he had long since forgotten how to articulate. Questions and demands and angry rants rose in him, and yet at the same time, a bittersweet wonder and longing. The other’s face stayed neutral, but his eyes betrayed a similar torrent of emotions.

“Cas.” His voice was rough with emotion, deepened than what the cellist remembered, but then again, they had been teenagers when they had met. Now, Castiel could see the hints of gray creeping around Dean’s hairline.

“Ah, you two know each other?” Mr. DuBois asked, looking between the two of them.

“Yes, we met a long time ago.” Dean cleared his throat, still looking at Castiel.

“Well, I shall let you talk then. Very good playing, Castiel!” With that, Mr. DuBois left the two of them, standing in the middle of the reception area.

Before Dean could say anything, Castiel put down his champagne and put a hand on the other’s arm.

“Let’s go outside. There’s less people, and I don’t want to be interrupted.” Castiel said, dragging the other out to the balcony overlooking the Quartier Latin, cars squeezing past each other on the narrow streets, people bustling around in a busy hurried pace. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower was visible. As Castiel turned to close the door, he heard Dean moving towards the guardrail. The cellist joined him, leaning back on it.

“That song you played,” Dean began, eyes sliding to the other. “’Requiem of My Lake’, it was beautiful. You’ve always played beautifully.” His voice was painfully soft, warm like if it hadn’t been 20 years since they had seen each other last, and it broke Castiel whose emotions suddenly burst.

“Why didn’t you ever reply?” Castiel grit out, pain clearly coloring his voice. “I waited, Dean. I waited for months for you to call or write or anything.” A tear fell down his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean said. “I was…afraid. I was younger and dumber and at first, it was because of different reasons, but the longer I waited, the more…the more I realized that you deserved better than me.”

“Oh Dean, you idiot.” Castiel turned away from him, hands clutching the rail. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. He leaned down until his forehead touched the railing, because he knew that if he looked at the other man right now, he would throw him off the very tall building they were currently on. “I waited for months and even after I gave up hope, I still….”. He cut himself off, trying not to sound too emotional. “There was some part of me that thought maybe one day, you would show up at my door with that stupid Impala of yours parked out front.” He straightened and looked Dean straight in the eyes. “You broke my heart.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies.” Castiel snarled, turning to go back into the party. A hand on his arm turned him back around.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Cas. I can’t go back and fix it.” Dean said, his voice soft. “But…but I’ve never forgotten you. There are half written letters that I still have but they’re not useful now. And, I saw you up there, Cas, and I realized that nothing’s changed for me. If you give me another chance, I swear that I will never break your heart again.” His hand travelled down to Castiel’s, holding it loosely.

A part of Castiel instantly rebelled but seeing Dean earnestly looking at him with those damn green eyes and that small smile that had captured his heart back in high school, it relit something in him that he had thought dead. He frowned, glaring at their joined hands before sighing, shoulders slumping. Leaning in, he finally let himself hug the other man, burying his face in the other’s shoulder.

A sound of surprise escaped the other.

“I missed you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Dean wrapped his arms around the other, one hand cupping Castiel’s head as he leaned his cheek on him. “I always regretted never writing.”

The other leaned back.

“You can’t disappear on me again, Dean Winchester.”

The other looked at him fondly, leaning closer until their foreheads were touching.

“Blue eyes, I swear that you’ll get sick of me.”

“I better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: Tim McGraw by Taylor Swift


End file.
